


Pillow Talk

by Alethia



Series: Power Plays [3]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirror Universe, Strategy & Tactics, Teasing, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28608135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: "Your security leaves something to be desired," she said, haughty, the blade held steady at his throat.Chris rolled onto his back, stretching sinuously, the black sheet slipping down his bare chest. Michael's eyes followed, a flicker of distraction—He had one hand at her wrist and the other behind her knee in an instant,yankingher onto the bed and rolling her underneath him, pinning her legs with his, the knife now atherthroat.Chris smirked down at her. "I told Number One that if you ever tried this to let you in."
Relationships: Mirror Michael Burnham/Mirror Christopher Pike
Series: Power Plays [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060601
Comments: 29
Kudos: 60





	Pillow Talk

**Author's Note:**

> More Mirrorverse Michael and Pike. I wrote most of this before there was an actual fucking violent coup in the US, and it does discuss Mirror!Michael's stupid coup, so if that's gonna be too real, approach with caution. Also, Mirrorverse, so reminder that these are really awful people.

A shift in the air woke Chris, nothing particularly noticeable, but after so many years in service to the Terran Empire, he'd learned to pay attention to the small things.

He stayed curled on his side, pretending to sleep, seeing what she'd do. 

Only one person could possibly make it all the way to his bedroom. None of his crew would dare. But Michael? She was frustrated and reckless enough to try it. 

Chris felt his body stir in interest. He did love challenging her control so. 

A cold bite at his neck was his answer, Chris giving up the pretense of sleep and sucking in a breath. Let her think she'd startled him; it would only deepen the pleasure of what came next. 

"Lights," Chris called, the computer automatically raising the lights to nighttime levels, showing Michael standing above his bed, decked out in her captain's finest, holding one of her blades to his throat. The smirk gracing her meticulously-painted lips said she thought she'd won here. 

How sweet. 

Her dark eyes drank him in as she propped a knee on the bed and leaned in, expression saying she relished her victory. "Your security leaves something to be desired," she said, haughty, the blade held steady at his throat.

Chris rolled onto his back, stretching sinuously, the black sheet slipping down his bare chest. Michael's eyes followed, a flicker of distraction—

He had one hand at her wrist and the other behind her knee in an instant, _yanking_ her onto the bed and rolling her underneath him, pinning her legs with his, the knife now at _her_ throat. 

Chris smirked down at her. "I told Number One that if you ever tried this to let you in."

Shock flitted across her face, instantly followed by rage, but underneath that—in the eyes darting over his chest, taking in his low-slung sleep pants—her desire still _burned_. 

It sent a frisson of lust racing through him, straight to his cock. Shame he wouldn't get to satisfy his desires tonight. But no matter how tempting it was to see her in his bed, pressed against his black sheets, they weren't there yet. 

_Yet_. 

"You won't kill me," Michael taunted, eyes flashing in challenge.

Chris pressed the knife to her skin, drawing a small bead of blood. "You sure about that?"

Michael tipped her chin back, haughty again, so sure of herself. "Yes. You haven't fucked me yet."

He scoffed. "That's your fantasy."

Michael's eyes slid down his body, lingering on the telltale bulge in his sleep pants, before meeting his again. "Is it now."

"Despite your considerable charms," he drawled, shooting her an unimpressed look, "The price of treason is death. The Emperor might be annoyed with me for killing you, but she's eminently practical; she'd get over it."

At that, Michael smirked, but then instantly went innocent. "Treason? I can't imagine what you mean."

The arrogance sent a rush of anger through him. She was playing with fire like it was no big deal. Like a _child_. "Computer, privacy protocol," Chris barked, getting an acknowledging chirp in response. He eyed Michael steadily, keeping her pinned in place—legs holding hers, one hand over hers on the knife at her throat, the other hand pinning her wrist to the bed. She seemed wildly unconcerned. "There," he said. "Alone at last. No prying eyes. No surveillance. Now we can have an honest conversation."

Michael tilted her head, murmuring, "Not why I want to be alone with you," suggestion in her voice.

"Too bad because I have questions." He lowered his voice to a seductive purr. "And if you're a good girl, you might just get a reward for answering."

Michael swallowed, lust lurking in her eyes. After a beat, she controlled it, playing at cool. "Ask what you like. Whether I'll answer is up to me."

Chris felt the laugh building somewhere deep, but he tamped it down. He wished he didn't find her quite so _amusing_. Pretending she had control of this situation. It was absurd.

But he ignored the instinct to needle her and moved to the salient point: "Excellent. Tell me. What the hell is so awful about your life? What is so terrible that you'd resort to scheming with _Gabriel_ to overthrow your own mother?" Chris asked, blunt, a little bit of his contempt leaking in at the last. 

Michael blinked, like he had surprised her, going there. "Plotting against the Emperor would be foolish," she dodged. 

"The life-ending kind of foolish," he agreed, staring into her eyes, assessing. "You're a smart cookie, Michael, clearly there must be something I've missed. Some reason you're being so very dumb right now. So come on, let's have it. Gimme the reasons. Who knows, you might even get Captain Pike on your side."

Michael's eyes flickered. "Captain Pike is one of the Emperor's most loyal subjects," she intoned, like she was reciting known wisdom. "Captain Pike is not to be approached, nor is his crew. When the glorious revolution is upon us, Captain Pike will be eliminated."

Chris snorted. "I'd like to see Gabriel try."

"Careful," Michael said, almost like advice. "He's more formidable than you think."

"Believe me when I say this, Michael, but he's really, truly not. He's _obvious_. That's why your little play-coup is so very trying. All the adults have already taken countermeasures. The fact that you can't see that is beneath your vaunted intellect."

Frustration flashed through her expression. "She just—she's _weak_ ," she said, like she couldn't help herself, she _needed_ him to see what was so clear to her. "We should be _crushing_ these rebellions, not looking at the root causes." The last was said with a shade of mockery, as if that was actually beneath them.

For fuck's sake.

Chris rolled his eyes. "That's a child's view of holding an empire. Understanding rebellions, to prevent more rebellions in the future, _is_ crushing them. People get confused because there are fewer fireworks," he said, adding his own hint of mockery. 

"As the weak would say," she snarled back.

Chris tsked. " _Think_ , Michael." He squeezed her wrist, still pinned to the bed, so hard he knew it must hurt. "If you grip something tight enough, people will feel they _have_ to escape. But if you cradle it gently—" He loosened his hand, running his thumb along the soft skin of her wrist, clocking the breath she sucked _in_ , "They won't even notice. After all, most of these inferior species _like_ being told what to do. They want to be ruled by their betters. Find a way to work with that and there will never be a rebellion to crush."

Michael stayed furiously silent, staring daggers up at him. Because she had no answer, he knew. 

"This isn't about _strategy_ ," he said, mocking again. "So what is it, Michael? True leaders articulate their visions."

He saw that hit land, her anger _flaring_ again. The base of his spine tingled at how _responsive_ she was. 

Finally, she snapped. "I can't—I'm just an echo of her, like this. I'm not _real_. I will never be my own person until she's out of the way." Her voice held a note of torment, like this kept her awake at night. 

Chris nodded in understanding, slow. "Now we're getting to the heart of it." He tilted his head, switching topics on her, destabilizing. "What do you know about my reputation?"

Michael blinked, then glared, hiding how thrown she was. "What, fishing for compliments?"

Chris tossed her a half-smile. "Indulge me."

She huffed and relented: "The Empire just loves Captain Pike," she drawled. "Your brutality is rivaled only by your efficiency. A posting on the _Enterprise_ is considered the highest honor because you don't suffer fools. And every single crew member who has ever served under you sings your praises," she sneered, like it was an insult. 

"And what do you know of your own?" he asked, gentling his voice. 

Michael's sneer fell away. "The Emperor's daughter," she mocked, "Her station in life _bestowed_ , not earned."

Chris made a disapproving noise. "Wrong. You're the Emperor's daughter, yes, but no one doubts your skills. Your ruthlessness is known far and wide. You've made them fear you, Michael. You just haven't made them love you."

She flinched, just the tiniest thing, but Chris caught it. 

"But the Emperor?" he continued, soft. "They fear _and_ love her. And that's why you'll never win."

Michael lifted her chin again, so full of fire. "We'll see."

Chris sighed, frustration sweeping through him. He wished he could shake this idiocy out of her, but it wouldn't help. "You think she keeps you in the shadows, but it's not true. She shines her light _onto_ you. Michael, you glow," he said, genuine, trying to reach her. 

She bared her teeth. "I'll glow brighter when it's my turn in the sun," she insisted, vehement. 

Chris took that in, seeing the obvious flaw. "Oh, yeah? And how's that going to work? Because it's not just you, is it?" He saw that strike her, Michael blinking to cover it. "Do you really think Gabriel will _let_ you shine?"

Michael swallowed, defiant. "We'll rule together."

"Together, how romantic," he drawled, enjoying the mockery of it. "And what happens when you two disagree? What happens now? Whose word wins?" he asked, pointed, already knowing the answer. 

Because it certainly wasn't Michael. 

But Michael just narrowed her eyes at him, like _he_ was the one who didn't get it. "Gabriel loves me. We're a team. We'll work it out. Together."

Chris _hmmed_ , seeing how dug in she still was, truly believing in Gabriel's supposed love. It was the foundation of everything. If Chris were going to break her, he'd need to go at it directly. 

He didn't hate putting _that_ on his to-do list. 

"Well, I'm glad we had this little chat," he drawled, smirking at her. 

She shot him an unimpressed look. "That's it? You thought you'd look at me with your pretty eyes and I'd see the error of my ways? Oh, please." She laughed once, light, then went all steely captain on him again. "Time to let me run along, _Chris_."

He flashed a smile, pressing her down into the bed, relishing. "That's not it. You forget, I made you an offer. And you've been a good girl," he murmured, leaning down—

Chris licked over the blade where it pressed against the cut on her neck, lapping up the blood still oozing there. He felt it as Michael gasped, the noise _thrilling_ through him as he kissed his way up her neck to her chin, nibbling there, before finally sliding his mouth over hers, slow, sensuous. Michael breathed out, opening her mouth for more, Chris diving into her mouth, tongue dipping _in_ to tease. 

Michael made a wanting noise, tongue meeting his, her taste heady on his tongue, her body straining against his, trying to get more. 

Chris tossed the knife aside, his mouth still moving over hers. He brought his hand back to cradle her jaw, tilting her head to kiss her again, deeper now, the slick slide of their mouths shooting _heat_ up his spine, his cock pulsing, hard and ready for her, though it wouldn't get what it wanted. 

Michael didn't try to escape now that the knife was gone. Instead she curled into him, her free hand moving to his hair, pulling him closer as they kissed and _kissed_ , learning each other's mouths, sharing taste and breath. 

Chris shifted to the side, releasing her legs to settle against her, and like that it was a full-body affair, Michael arching into him, Chris rocking his hard cock against her hip, their kisses deep and wet. She mewled into his mouth, the sound _burning_ through him; he could do this for hours. For _years_. 

The thought stopped him cold. Best not to go there. 

He pulled back, pressing one hand to her sternum, holding her down, keeping her from following, her eyes dark with lust. 

"...what?" she asked, lips bruised, panting. 

"Computer, end privacy protocol," he called, holding her gaze. After the answering chirp, he tipped his head toward the door, dismissive. "Run along now," he said, using her words just to piss her off. 

Michael's eyes widened, like she couldn't believe he'd kiss her like _that_ and then kick her out. "You _want_ me," she insisted, aggressive. 

Chris flicked his eyes over her, unimpressed. "I don't fuck other people's toys."

She breathed _out_ , anger flaring again. "You owe me a favor," she shot back, fire in her eyes. 

"Did you forget you lost that bet?" he asked, mild.

Michael shook her head. "People heard you. They _know_ you owe me."

He smirked, enjoying this. "Begging for a fuck, Michael? Gabriel really must be falling down on the job." Her offended noise was a delight, Chris grinning in response. "Don't worry, I'll do you that favor. But not yet," he said, final. "Run along, Michael. Go play coup with your keeper. The adults have better things to do."

With that, he slid off the bed, heading for the lavatory. 

He had preparations to attend. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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